Julian, I could attempt a comment with every posting but my too small cache of words prevents me. Always there is some mysterious evocation that rises up in me when I visit your site and sit and stare at your work. Most always a feeling that slants just off center line, veering ever so slightly toward a type of ironic sadness that warms me. "A sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, but resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain." The little shapes of just right color placed just so, or the long dashes of muted color, pebbled with small imperfections, allowed to play their part. The pears of yesterday and this road on this evening set off in me something of wonderment that I happily cannot explain.